


like two ships that passed in the night - our story that gets told in many, many years

by palalabu



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palalabu/pseuds/palalabu
Summary: The long and intricate history of Lando and Carlos.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr
Comments: 41
Kudos: 172





	like two ships that passed in the night - our story that gets told in many, many years

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic back in april, before Carlos was announced to move to Ferrari. so i thought he'd stay more than just 2 years in McLaren. And I just stick to it in this fic. It probably doesn't matter. Just want to put it out there. 
> 
> Also, if you're panicking in the middle of this fic, read the tag.

It was in 2013 when Lando tore the Red Bull’s driver poster he put up next to Albon’s in annoyance. Such a snob. George Russell would probably be better than him once he’s in F3. Lando was sure of it. Russell and Albon were always so fast, but they’d always been so nice to Lando. Unlike this Spanish guy, who never even bothered to reply to his tweets. Must be a massive jerk once you get to know him. 

He threw the shredded poster into the bin, hoping he’d never ever met this guy. Ever!

❖❖❖

  
  


“Wait! Wait.” Oliver Norris raises both his hands, trying to stop the other boys’ laughter and draw their attention to him. 

He doesn't get a lot of chances to hang out with his and Lando’s mutual friends, with most of them being racing drivers and have to travel the world a lot. So every chance he gets, he makes sure to dedicate a generous amount of the time to embarrass his brother. This impromptu dinner in London with George, Alex, Carlos and a few other of their friends is definitely an opportunity he should not miss. 

“We all know about George and Alex. But Lando,” he turns to look at his brother sitting next to him at their round table, “why haven’t you told anyone about Carlos?”

“What about me?” The Spaniard suddenly perks up at the mention of his name.

“Oliver,” Lando warns his brother through his gritted teeth. 

But of course, Oliver decides to ignore him and spills the tea instead. “He also idolized you when he was a kid.” 

There’s a resounding ‘What!’ around the table. Especially from Carlos who reaches over to Lando a few seats over, trying to shake his arm and demanding explanation. Lando is thankful they’re not sitting next to each other. 

“Wait!” George suddenly remembers something. Lando curses under his breath. “Is he the Red Bull driver you couldn’t shut up about back then?”

Alex agrees that he remembers a similar story, while Oliver is nodding his head. And Carlos. His face is red. Either from laughing or blushing Lando isn’t sure. But one thing for sure, Lando wishes he could be swallowed into the ground and never to be seen. 

“When was this?” Carlos is still demanding answers. Oliver helpfully tells him it was from 2012 or 2013. “Was I even that good that you noticed me?”

“I don’t know.” Lando tries to lie. “I don't even remember.”

“How could you not remember?” Oliver scoffs. “You were so upset when he never replies to your tweets.”

“Are these tweets still there?” Henrik who has been quiet before pipes up. “Might be interesting for the marketing department.”

As the videographer pulls out his phone, Lando stares at his brother from the corner of his eyes. And just wishes he could feel the fiery glare he sends him and knows that he’s currently plotting thousands of ways to murder him. 

“No. Seriously, Lando,” Carlos is once again shaking his arm, trying to get his attention. “Why you never tell me?”

“It was a long time ago.” Lando tries to shrink away. Or just shrink, be tiny and invisible. “Honestly, I don’t remember.”

Luckily for him, the meal he ordered arrived. And it was truffles in a giant bladder. There’s no way people aren't switching their attention to that…  _ thing. _

He pulls out his own phone and starts to record the whole ceremony of popping the bladder. Carlos then tells him to enjoy his food. His embarrassing childhood story seems forgotten. And Lando is thankful for every star, god, and deity for this impeccable timing.

Because, honestly, he’s not ready to start admitting that Carlos was the first boy he noticed. And not in an innocent, purely idolizing a senior racing driver kind of way either. 

xxx

Lando turns to look at his chuckling teammate as they’re standing at a platform in Waterloo Station, waiting for their train back to Woking. Their group had dispersed earlier that night, leaving the two of them catching the last train in a quieted down station to take them back home. 

“What?” he asks Carlos who is still laughing and tapping quickly on his phone. 

“I’m replying your old tweets.”

“Oh fuck you!” Lando tries to grab the phone from Carlos. And they’re getting into a scuffle before Lando gives up —after all Carlos is taller and stronger than he’d ever been— and resigns to just standing there with his arms crossed. “Seriously, Carlos. Can you not.”

“No. Lando, your brother said you were upset cause I didn’t reply to any of these.” The idiot is grinning while Lando’s scowl only deepens. “Here, look. You congratulated me for leading the championship. I should at least say thank you, no?”

“No.” Lando says resolutely. “It’s eight years too late.” 

But his frustration seems to only fuel Carlos’ laughter even louder. “I’m sorry. But we’ve known each other for a year? Or even more? Cause we met that one time in 2018. And you never said anything about this. I can’t believe you.” 

“It’s embarrassing, okay.”

“You were not embarrassed when you told everyone you have Alex’s poster in your bedroom,” Carlos argues. Then quickly asks, “Did you also put up my poster?” 

“It’s different. I practically grew up with Alex.” Lando decides to ignore the question and hopes Carlos won’t notice it.

“And my poster?” Of course the idiot notices it.

Lando sighs, but finally answers. “I took it down after my last tweet was ignored.” It apparently starts another bout of laughter from Carlos. “I hated you so much, I was so sure you’re a jerk. And I wished I’d never had to work with you.” 

“Why did you hate me so much? We didn't even know each other.”

“Because I was 14.” But Carlos looks at him with his brilliant brown eyes and a warm smile. And suddenly Lando is taken back to 2013, young and clueless, and so enthralled by the young Red Bull driver he saw once at some track he can’t even remember. So with the same boldness as his 14 years old self who sent those childish tweets to this older boy he didn't even know, Lando tells him. “And because it was a crush. Actually.” He watches how Carlos’ eyes widen, clearly never seen it coming and has no idea what to make of it. 

But he shouldn't make anything of it. It was years ago. Lando was a naive little kid. It was just a passing crush. 

The first time he ever had a crush on a boy. But still, many other boys came after. 

So he chuckles. “Don’t hurt your head. It was just a stupid thing from when I was a kid.”

“You’re still a kid,” Carlos tries to argue. Seemingly has come out of his shock. 

Lando flips his finger at him. 

And as they sit across from each other on the half-empty train taking them back to Woking, with Carlos speaking in a hush on the phone with his girlfriend, Lando wonders if he should congratulate or laugh at himself for only confessing one part of his truth. 

But when Carlos ends his call, telling his girlfriend that he misses him and that he loves him too, Lando figures he does have to keep the other part to himself. 

The part where, if his younger self had a passing crush, then this adult Lando is currently having a major crush on Carlos instead. 

❖❖❖

  
  


People say time heals. But Carlos isn't too sure about that. He has even tried putting distance between him and Madrid, and yet still it’s hard to forget years of relationship. 

He thinks, as he lies down like a pathetic lump on his bed in his Woking apartment and scrolls through his phone aimlessly, that more than anything being with other people should help him. So he pulls up his contacts and starts deliberating who he can recruit in helping him get over his heartbreak. 

Rupert is out of the question since the poor guy already spends enough time working with Carlos. He needs to be with his fiance and Carlos respected that. And as he scrolls through his contact he realizes that most people he knows in England are all working colleagues who he definitely should leave alone as they’re seeing each other most of the time already anyway. He really doesn't have a lot of friends here.

Until his finger hovers on Lando’s name. He figures Lando would definitely be up for a game of FIFA. 

But, also, there’s that thing he admitted to Carlos earlier that year. Or was it last year? That little, no big deal confession about his childhood crush. 

Except, now that the fact was brought into the light, Carlos, without thinking, started to pay more attention to his teammate. And now he’s not entirely sure if the crush was merely a thing from the past. Because he can’t help but notice the way Lando looks at him when he thinks no one notices. The way he laughs at Carlos’ jokes. And the way he leans against Carlos. Or the way he sometimes talks to him with longing in his voice. Carlos hopes someone can confirm his observation and convince him that it’s not all just in his head. 

Would Lando be up for something more than just playing stupid video games? Would that mean Carlos is using him for a rebound? Would it be unfair to him?

But he already hears the ringing tone even before he gives himself a chance to answer any of those questions. So when he finally hears Lando’s voice on the other end, for the first time since they’ve known each other, Carlos is flustered. 

“Hey.” He sits up. And doesn't know how to proceed.

“Hey.” Lando sounds distracted. “What’s up?”

“Are you busy?”

Carlos wonders if it’s normal to feel this jittery when one initiates a booty call. On a rebound. With a teammate. He cringes. Mclaren must have a guidebook somewhere with a rule that prohibits such things. Carlos must have just missed that. 

“Um… Kinda.” The word comes out like a question. “Sacha is in town. And I’m gonna meet up with him.”

Well, mission abort. This is not a booty call. Although, Carlos is still up to hang out with them. It’s still way better than being stuck all alone in his apartment. 

But there’s a pause in their conversation. And the invitation still hasn't been extended to him. Which is unusual. Because he’d been hanging out with the two boys before, surely he can join them again this time right?

“Carlos, do you need anything?” Lando finally asks. “Cause I need to get ready.”

“You need to get ready to hang out with Sacha?”

“Yeah. Cause we’re gonna go out.” Honestly, Carlos wouldn’t mind going out with them. Perhaps he could find someone and get lucky after all tonight. “There’s this nice restaurant we’ve been wanting to go to.” 

“A nice restaurant?” Seems like an unusual place for these two boys to hang out at. And there’s a heavy silence from Lando’s end, as if there’s an unspoken meaning behind his words that Carlos should perceive on his own. “You mean you’re going out with him on like a date?” he finally asks. 

“Yes. But not!” Lando adds quickly. “It’s uh… It’s not like a date  _ date.  _ But it’s…” Carlos could hear him fumbling, trying to find the right word. “It’s a friendly date. I guess. A friends date?”

“What is that? Explain.” Carlos couldn't help but laugh at the clumsiness of Lando’s awkward explanation. 

Lando makes an embarrassed sound. And honestly, Carlos finds it endearing and just so very Lando. 

“Well we do what people do when they’re dating. You know, dinner and stuff. And then after that…” Lando lets out a mix of a frustrated and awkward sigh. “You know,  _ stuff. _ But as friends.”

Oh. They’re fucking. Carlos thinks. And can’t help but wonder if this is the sort of thing Lando just does with his friends or is it just Sacha. Does this mean Lando would be open to be— and Carlos cringes at the words— fuck buddies. Or again, is it just Sacha?

Why does he sound already like a jealous boyfriend? 

But to Lando, he just says, “Okay. I see.”

“Why did you call?”

“Just wanna know if I could come over to play FIFA or something.”

“Oh, sorry, mate. Raincheck?”

“Sure.” Carlos tries not to sound disappointed.

Why is he disappointed again? Carlos wonders to himself. 

As they say their goodbyes, Carlos figures he definitely has to sort his own… well, not feelings for Lando exactly. But he was so sure Lando would be available when he called and would say yes to anything he asked. Because this is Lando, who has a crush on him and has always been following him around these past few years. 

Has he been somehow stringing Lando along, knowing about his feelings for him? If he did that, he surely didn't mean it. But, did he do it exactly for a reason like this? So he could have someone to fall back on in case he needs a warm body to mend a broken heart? 

Shit. Carlos feels so disgusted with himself. Good thing Lando is not stupid enough to hang all of his hopes on him. 

❖❖❖

  
  


He’s fourth in the championship. Or fifth, depends on if he’ll be too ambitious with his overtaking and lose control again next race in Abu Dhabi or not. But clearly, he’s not going to be third. The gap is too far, points and speed wise. 

And despite this being the highest he’s ever been in the championship, he’s angry and restless. Their car has seen huge improvements this year. Yet still never quick enough to compete with the top teams. Some of the podiums he got were on luck and not completely merit. But it still deluded him enough to think he was playing with the big boys. As if scoring podiums were the only way for him to prove himself, he’d been acting like an idiot more often than not this year. And that’s what he’s mad about. 

Carlos feels like throwing the pen he’s been flipping between his fingers. And he barely can stop himself, just because he knows he really shouldn’t, during a debrief like this. But also, because it won’t help with anything. Especially when he’s going to move next year. He should really leave on a good note. 

So as a compromise, he slaps down the pen hard on the desk. Mostly unheard by the engineers working in the room, except the two next to him who were startled. Also Lando, who’s sitting right across from him. 

Shit. Another thing he fucks up this year. With all the fights for a better position on track and a better strategy from the team, tension has been running high between him and Lando. He’d thrown sharp remarks that he regretted after. And Lando isn't a pushover either. He gives as hard as Carlos. It’d be a miracle if they’d still even talk once this season ends.

And honestly, in retrospect, Carlos realizes that none of it is worth it. Losing a friend, a teammate he could be completely open with, for fourth in the standing. What an idiot. He should’ve been the mature one here, instead of being aggressive when they’re all can be civil about it. 

Carlos leaves the room with dark clouds still following him. He needs to end this year well. Not only on track but also with the team. He’s not going to burn bridges with anyone here. And he needs to close this season on a high to begin the new one on a positive note.

That’s when out of nowhere he feels someone bumps against his shoulder, and only to find Lando walks next to him. Which he doesn't expect. Doesn't even expect Lando wants to have anything to do anymore with him actually. But here they are. 

“Should I bring extra clothes for golf before the next race?” Lando asks him so casually that renders Carlos speechless and ends up just gaping at him. 

Golfing before race weekend officially starts in Abu Dhabi has become a thing they do every year. So Lando probably doesn't even need to ask about it to begin with. But this year, it’s definitely been weird between them. So if it’s an olive branch Lando is offering, Carlos will grab it the first chance he gets. 

“Sure.” He tries to play it cool. “As usual.”

“Okay. Great.”

He can’t miss the relief radiating from Lando’s smile. And he knows he definitely has the same one on his face. 

So at least that one friend he gets to keep.

xxx 

Friends. They’re friends. A particularly close one, considering they’re F1 drivers and it’s rare that really close friendships are formed amongst them. But the point is, they’re friends.

So Carlos doesn't really know how he ends up half-naked on Lando’s couch, with the owner on his lap and in a similar state of undress, panting into each other’s mouth while basking in the afterglow. But, there’s one thing he’s sure of.

“That was…”

“Amazing.” Lando finishes it off for him before surging forward to press another searing kiss. 

All Carlos remembers is that they were at Mclaren’s usual year-end party, which happened to also be his farewell party with the team. Drinks were involved, naturally. Even Lando who doesn't usually like alcohol took part in the activity. But they weren't smashed. He remembers agreeing to share a taxi to go back to their respective houses. And it was just a 15 minutes drive, but somehow his hand ended up wandering on Lando’s thigh, and Lando’s lips mouthing his neck. 

“We should’ve done this sooner.” He whispers his regret against Lando’s lips. 

Lando nods and agrees, but refuses to pull away from the kiss. And honestly, Lando feels so good. It feels perfect to have him on his lap like this, to have his tongue tasting Lando’s sweet flavor, just to hold him like this. Carlos can see himself doing this again. He wants to do this again. But…

“Shit.” He breaks the kiss. “Lando.” And weakly protests when Lando tries to go in for another one. “I’m sorry. But I can’t… I can’t.” Honestly, it takes everything in his power to stop himself or Lando from kissing. But he has to.

Lando abruptly pulls away and looks alarmed as he asks, “What do you mean?”

“I’m gonna start on a new team next year.” And Lando’s frown only deepens. “I promise myself that’d be my priority. That I should just focus on that one thing. So I really can’t start a new relationship now.”

First, he sees the confusion lifted from Lando’s face. Then relieve. Before finally the giggles start and his body shakes. 

“What?” Now Carlos is the confused one. He watches Lando laugh almost hysterically that he topples sideways to the couch with his feet still on Carlos’ lap. “What? Why are you laughing?” He shakes Lando’s socks covered feet. 

“We fuck  _ once, _ Carlos.” He finally answers. His face is red and his eyes still watery with laughing tears. “Why do you think— We don’t need to start dating.” He says it so matter-of-factly that Carlos feels like he’s being silly here. 

“No?” Carlos just has to make sure. 

“No.”

“Okay.” Then Carlos remembers about Sacha and his arrangement with Lando. And now he wonders if he’s just another friend in Lando’s list that he takes to bed when he feels like it. That definitely leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “I’m just saying because I thought you have a crush on me.” 

“When I was—”

“No.” He stops Lando from excusing himself. The way he says it is unkindly, and he regrets it right after. But he can’t stop himself. “Not when you were a kid. I mean now.” 

Carlos doesn't even know if it’s still true, because their partnership definitely had evolved into something more than just two guys who got close because they’re put in the same team together. And thus, Lando’s awe for Carlos must have worn off over the course of their friendship. Or perhaps, they’ve settled into familiar comfort that Lando has stopped being this shy, bumbling, awkward teammate that Carlos first introduced to. But, whatever it is, Carlos shouldn’t have mentioned Lando's crush and used it with the intention to embarrass him. 

Except, he can’t help but feeling petty because it is now established that Lando no longer looks at him with stars in his eyes.

Lando gets up to sit sideways facing Carlos. “Okay, let’s say I do.” 

“Which, you do.”

Lando rolls his eyes at him before continuing. “Even if I do, I wouldn’t want us to date for the sake of dating.” 

Carlos tilts his head. “Explain.”

“You said it yourself, you need to focus on your career starting next season. And I probably also need to do that,” Lando murmurs the last sentence more to himself. “So I just think…” He shrugs. “If we were ever to date each other, I want to give us a fair chance. I don’t want us to date just because we slept with each other, once, when we were half drunk.”

Carlos has to admit that it is a sound reason. Especially when he’s not even sure what he wants to do with Lando beyond fucking him.

“But this…” He gestures at the air between them, “This is okay?” And ‘this’ meaning ‘sex’.

“We’re both single. Why shouldn’t it be?”

Carlos nods in agreement while still amazed by how nonchalant Lando is about this whole thing. “Fair enough.” He says, before pushing Lando back against the couch causing his teammate to squeal and lying over him, peppering his neck with kisses.

And Lando spreads his legs easily for him, letting him settle down in his straddle. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna miss you so bad though.”

“Really?” He licks the dip on Lando’s neck. “What will you miss the most?” And when Lando fails to answer, Carlos bites his collar bone. Causing Lando to curse and arches his body perfectly against him. “Come on. What?” He really revels in seeing how dark Lando’s eyes are and how flushed his face is. 

“I guess…” Lando starts, with blushed cheeks, “it’s when you talk Spanish to me.”

That makes him laugh. And each word he utters next is marked with kisses down the center of Lando’s body. “Even though you don’t understand what I’m saying?” He stops once he reaches Lando’s navel to look up and watches him biting his lips in arousal.  _ “¿Eso te excita?” _

As Lando swears and bucks his hips under him, Carlos just knows his own grin must have been so devilish. 

❖❖❖

  
  


“Charlotte!” 

The blonde PR officer turns to find his ex-colleague half running toward her. She has to admit that it’s still weird for her to see Carlos, —well, Caco, really— the manager, the cousin, in red, even though they have almost gone through half of the season already. 

“Please tell Lando that I owe him one.” The Spaniard tells her as he puts his arm around her shoulder and walks with her back to Mclaren's motorhome. He knows better than to stop a busy woman for a chat. 

“Do you now?” She raised her eyebrow at him. “What did Lando do?”

“Actually I don’t even know. But Carlos went for golf with him on Wednesday. And when he returned, he was… I don’t know how to say it.” He frowns and tries to think of the right word to describe his cousin. “ I guess, lighter? Just better, somehow. ”

“Really? Is ‘golf’ a euphemism for something else?” She’s mostly half-joking. But those two really make the whole paddock talking. And one has to be so dense to not at least be suspicious that there’s something more than friendship there. 

“If it was a euphemism, then we better keep using it. Because I don’t want to talk about my cousin’s, well, golfing activities.”

That makes her laugh. But then, her thoughts switch gears. Thinking how bad it must have been for Carlos in Ferrari that his cousin has to thank Lando just for cheering him up. “The pressure must be quite horrible for him there, yeah?”

“You have no idea.”

It’d be stupid to think Carlos’ move to Ferrari is not without the heavy baggage of expectation to perform from the team itself, but more importantly from their supporter. And how the media are having a feeding frenzy whenever he does anything wrong. That as a friend, sometimes Charlotte thinks if it’d be better for Carlos to stay with them at Mclaren. His road to winning the championship might take longer, but at least they’re family in this team. 

“Good thing Lando wasn’t busy then,” she tells Caco. “You know, the boyfriend is coming this weekend.” 

“The boyfriend!” Caco starts to whisper conspiratory, “Who is that? Why does he suddenly have a boyfriend?”

“Honestly, the biggest mystery in Mclaren hospitality.”

xxx

“So, explain to me,” Caco demands as he and his cousin are busy fixing their own ties in front of a mirror. They both got chosen as ushers for Rupert’s wedding. And now Carlos brings some girl he met a few weeks ago as his plus one, and Lando who is in attendance comes alone. 

“Explain what?” 

“Why, instead of having Lando as your date, you’re taking this random girl—”

“She’s not random. You’ve met her.”

“Last week,” Caco argues, “You don't usually just hook up with a girl. And especially, to just bring someone we barely know to an important event like this.”

But his cousin just shrugs it off flippantly. Which is how he’s been approaching this whole subject. Which, again, so unlike Carlos who thinks over everything.

“You know Lando has a boyfriend, right?” He knows Carlos tries to sound indifferent. But to be honest, he fails. 

“In Australia.”

“So what? I still can’t bring someone else’s boyfriend as my date.”

“So you’re admitting that you date this girl just because you can’t bring Lando.”

Carlos raises his finger at him. “You’re the one who said that. Not me.”

And Caco couldn't even stop himself from rolling his eyes. He swears his cousin still acts like a difficult baby sometimes despite already being in his late-20s.

“What I’m trying to say is, I thought you said he doesn't want to date if the two of you are still prioritizing your own careers.” 

“He did say that.”

“But then he’s dating this random gamer from Australia—”

“Why has everyone suddenly become random to you?”

“—who can’t even come to most of the races. Isn't that prioritizing their own careers?”

“They’ve known each other for a while. It’s all very public in their live streams.” Now Carlos tries even harder to sound detached, but instead, tugging at his own tie carelessly. Interesting. “Also, you’re not listening.”

Caco crosses his arms over his chest. “Really?” Talking to his cousin about things other than racing could be a huge challenge sometimes. “And which part did I miss?”

“So.” Carlos turns to face him, hands on his shoulders, eye contact, and all very serious. “I said, Lando told me he doesn't want _us,_ as in, he and I, to date if we can’t fully commit to the relationship.” He raises his eyebrows to make sure Caco gets it. “Yeah?” There’s a slightly smug smile on Carlos’ face as he asks that. 

“And you’re sure that was what he meant, and you’re not just interpreting it however you want?”

“Oh, I’m sure,  _ tío.” _

“Then how come you look so annoyed when I talk about it?”

He gets a shrug as a response. “No reason,” his cousin tells him, before he’s off to another room with an excuse that he needs to make sure they seated Lando in a table with people he actually knows so he wouldn't have to talk to strangers. Lando apparently hates having to strike a conversation with people he doesn't know. As Carlos has repeatedly mentioned to him and Rupert. 

So yeah, Caco is sure there’s more reason for his cousin’s odd behavior. 

xxx

_ “So, a boyfriend, huh?” _

_ “How did you even find out about it?” _

_ “Just from every F1 related account that posted that clip from your Twitch where you were asked and agreed to date that guy.” _

_ “Oh.” _

_ “That’s it?” _

_ “Yeah. I just thought, why not.” _

_ “Huh. ‘Why not’?” _

_ “Yeah, why not?” _

_ “Just sounds... too simple.” _

_ “We’re only dating, Carlos. It’s not like I’m gonna marry him or whatever.” _

_ “So complicated relationships are reserved for someone who you actually want to marry?” _

_ “...Maybe.” _

_ “And… our arrangement?” _

_ “Well, I’m not single anymore, so…” _

_ “Hm. I see.” _

❖❖❖

  
  


Carlos is trying not to cry under his helmet. And his knees are shaking as he steps out of his car and jumps on top of it to scream at everyone, at his team, at the tifosi, at the world. Ten years of fighting in Formula 1 and now, finally, he’s a world champion. 

What happens next is a series of blurry events for him. Jumping into a sea of reds, of faceless people patting his helmet and congratulating him with hugs. The podium he has to step on to, when he’s actually feeling closer to floating. The tears he can’t fight anymore when the national anthem is playing. And being drenched in champagne by Max and Charles. Being ushered back to the paddock and ambushed by his family and Rupert.

He’s suspended in a cloud of elation. None of these feel real. It’s as if he’s just in one of his dreams. That same dream he’s been having since he was 10. 

Until, a tap on his shoulder makes him turn around to find a familiar face greets him. It’s Lando. And suddenly Carlos remembers everything that happens next. 

Lando, in his thermal as his blue race suit has already been rolled down to his waist. The thermal that gets wet as Carlos pulls him into a hug. Champagne and Lando’s own sweat are mixed together. The scent of his sweat that Carlos knows so well. The way his brown locks curled when it’s damp. Lando is congratulating him. Sounds like he’s fighting his own tears as he tells Carlos that he’s happy for him and that he’s proud of him. That he deserves it because he’s been fighting so hard for years now. And that Lando has never seen anyone work as hard as he is. 

And Carlos is once again back on Earth. Back to the busy paddock in Abu Dhabi. And this is really happening. He just won the championship. With a team that has never felt like truly his, that he has to rely, so much, on an….. He doesn't like to use the word, ‘ex-teammate’, as it would reduce Lando’s role in his life to only just that. ‘Best friends’ sounds both juvenile and shallow. Because Lando has touched him deeper than just that. He’s truly the only one Carlos can be honest to and who understands what he’s been going through. The one respite in the sea of people that Carlos sometimes thinks would rather see him drown. 

And as they stand there, with him still holding Lando’s arms, staring at each other's eyes, with grins mirroring each other’s, he just knows he doesn't want to let go of this. And neither does Lando. He can see it in his grey-blue eyes. This is where they’re supposed to be. This is who he wants to have in his arms as he’s paraded around town as the new champion. This is who he wants to have…

“I should go back to—” They say at the same time. 

“Yeah. Your team is probably waiting for you.”

“Yeah. Your boyfriend…” And this has been three casual boyfriends away after that Australian one, “...too. Probably.” He finishes vaguely. 

And they step back. Promising they will contact each other later. Promising they will get together for a celebration. Before they turn around and walk back to their respective teams’ hospitality, to celebrate and to fulfill responsibilities. 

Carlos turns to look back once, as Charlotte steers Lando through the paddock, probably briefing him on the key points he has to get across to the media. 

End of season testing will start soon. And before they realize it, the next season. Another championship they have to fight for. 

This is not the time. 

xxx

_ "I'm seeing someone." _

_ "You know, at this point, you could've just said it." _

_ "Say what?" _

_ "Well just say it, 'Carlos, we should stop fucking'." _

_ "....What's wrong with you? Why are you mad? We agree we'll only sleep with each other when we both are single." _

_ "And this is what? Your third boyfriend in four years?" _

_ "So?" _

_ "So it seems like I'm the only one who enjoys our arrangement. Because whenever we start to sleep with each other for a few months, you get bored and suddenly you find a boyfriend out of nowhere." _

_ "I never said I got bored. And don't say that about my relationships." _

_ "It's not like you've ever committed to them anyway." _

_ "I've always committed to them. Just because I'm focusing more on racing, doesn't mean my relationships mean any less. And besides, what kind of fuck buddies who exclusively sleep with each other? Why don't you see other people?" _

_ "I see other people." _

_ "When I'm seeing someone." _

_ "I just… Look. I don't see the point. I've told you, I like our arrangement." _

_ "So I'm a convenient fuck." _

_ "No. You're familiar. And comfortable. And you're… It's just nice. I just like it when we're together."  _

_ "Carlos—" _

_ "I know. I understand, okay. I just need to say that." _

❖❖❖

  
  


Lando tries not to cry under his helmet. But his knees are weak as he steps out of his car and it feels like he’s about to fall over anytime. He feels even worse when he’s in the cool-down room and Max is all grin and hugging Christian. 

Lando has just won the race, but not the championship. 

And now, he has to smile and congratulate Max. Not only because he’s trying not to be a sore loser, but also because Max is one of his closest friends. He feels like he has to be happy for him. He wants to be happy for him. But it’s just so hard when it’s a title that he could almost feel at the tip of his fingers, but slipped from his grasp at the last second. 

He just wishes he wouldn't have to go through all the ceremony, all the fanfare and all the talking to the media, because he simply doesn't want to be there or with anyone. He wishes he could be alone and stew in his own frustration. He just…

He doesn't even know he’s been balling his hands into fists so tight his knuckles turn white and his nails dig into his palm. Until his downright spiraling train of thought abruptly cuts off by someone—and it’s Carlos, because who else— uncurls his fist and places it on his own knee instead as he sits down next to Lando. 

From the corner of his eye, Lando watches Carlos sit back against the sofa, with one hand on Lando’s back, rubbing soothing circles. He doesn't ask Lando how he’s feeling. Because obviously it’s awful. He doesn't crowd in on him and tell him he’s done well. Because it’s not that Lando doesn't know about it. He’s just not good enough. He doesn't tell him that there’s still next year. Because of course. Of course they will fight again next year. 

So they’re just sitting there, with every point of contact—Carlos’ hand on Lando’s back, Lando’s grip on Carlos' knee, the tip of their racing boots— become the source of comfort and where all the tensions are released out of Lando’s body. 

Later though, Lando just knows Carlos will make sure he’s not digging himself to deep into self-reproach and tries to cheer him up by bringing up stupid thing he achieved. Like how Lando managed to out-qualified Carlos in his rookie year, which was like eight years ago. It’s their inside joke. The thing Carlos always brought up to cheer Lando in a backhanded kind of way. And as of these past few years, Carlos loves to rub in an extra, “Trust me. I’m a World Champion.” In return, Lando will point out how arrogant Carlos is. It’s their routine. It never fails to make him laugh. Carlos never fails to make him laugh. Because it seems like Carlos is the only one who could truly lift him up and save him from himself sometimes. 

And when the tiniest bit of the corner of his lips is lifted, Carlos bumps against his shoulder, asking him if he’s ready to go out. 

He remembers the camera that’s still filming them then. And he couldn't help but think how this short moment of them together will be talked about and turned into content or whatever. “The bromance still stays strong”, Natalie or Simon would say. But, honestly, if what they’d take from Lando failing to win this championship is how close he and Carlos are, then so be it. It’s not wrong, and he’d rather they talk about that than his incompetence. 

“Yeah, let’s go out.”

His tiny smile is more sincere when he stands on the top of the podium. And it definitely widens when Carlos pulls him into a champagne-soaked hug. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Carlos whispers into his ears when he finally can’t stop himself anymore.

“Shut up.” Lando tries to push the older man away with a bitter smile. “I just lost the championship.” He really doesn't take compliments well. 

But Carlos refuses and holds him tighter instead. “No, you did well.” And his brown eyes are so warm. So sincere. Like they always do. “And I want you to hear that.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” And Lando’s voice already starts to waver. “I don’t wanna cry here.” Not in front of Max who’s celebrating his win. And definitely not in front of the world who’s watching. 

“Then blame it on the champagne,” Carlos tells him before he empties the rest of his bottle on Lando’s head, stinging his eyes with warm, bubbly liquid. Just like how he feels inside after those words of comfort.

So if Lando keeps having to press his eyes or if they are red and watery, Carlos is the only one who knows the real reason why.

❖❖❖

  
  


“I made a bet with Randy.” Daniel tells Lando without preamble as the Aussie sits across from him in McLaren's motorhome. It’s one of the rare occasions when Lando is not accompanied by Jon or his manager or his engineers. But of course, having Daniel as a teammate means his peace and quiet times get even rarer. 

He doesn't really mind though. 

“Then be prepared to lose,” Lando warns him regarding the bet, with his mouth full of his usual chicken wrap. Their now racing director, Randy, is notorious for betting. Including that one time they bet on Lando keeping Randy’s picture for his lockscreen for the entirety of his rookie year.

“You know I’m the only one that has ever won over him on a bet, right?” And Randy has been calling him shameless for that. 

“I know,” Daniel replies with a grin. “But, Lando, please just fulfill this old man’s wish and give it straight to me.”

“You’re not an old man, Daniel. Your mental age is literally on my level.”

“Yeah, but look who’s gonna retire next year.”

Lando sighs. Daniel will retire and never win a championship. Even with all the hype and expectation following him throughout his whole career. Isn't that thought scary. 

“Alright. What do I need to give straight to you?”

“Randy says you and Carlos are not and have never been together.”

Lando smiles. It’s not the first time the team made this bet. And honestly, they should’ve just gone ahead and made it an annual thing or something. 

“And you say we are? Come on, Dan. You know us better than that.”

“Well, okay. Perhaps not now. But you can’t honestly tell me there’s never been anything more between the two of you. We have eyes, mate.”

“Define ‘more’?” Lando takes another bite from his wrap. He’s stalling, he knows that. But it’s not a topic he’s ever openly talked about with anyone. Not even with Carlos. So understandably he’s not feeling the most comfortable right now. 

“Have you ever gone on a date together?”

“No.” That one is easy.

“Do you fuck each other?”

Lando takes another bite of his wrap. Now that one is hard. And the only reason it’s hard to answer is because Lando is a mess. 

“We’ve… done that.”

Daniel starts snapping his fingers and yelling several yeses loudly. “I knew it!”

Lando could admit at least that much. But not more than that. 

“Wait. You said you’ve  _ done _ it…”

He definitely can’t say the reason why it’s something that’s a done thing, instead of an ongoing one. Because just the thought of admitting that being with Carlos scares him sounds silly. Even to himself. But that’s the fact. For Lando, being with Carlos is frightening and overwhelming, and it could so easily become the only thing that matters for him. And it shouldn't be, when they were both still so young and had the whole world in front of them. Races to win and all that. 

And as silly as it sounds, that was the reason Lando started seeing other guys. So he could be Carlos-free. At least in his private moments. So they wouldn't have ended up sleeping next to each other in the same bed and tricked Lando’s stupid brain into thinking they were actual lovers. Because he liked it too much.

It’s so stupid.

Especially when Carlos still occupies his time and thought more than any of his exes anyway. 

“So, not anymore.” Daniel tries to make sure. 

Lando answers the non question with a shrug. It’s another complicated thing. Because, somehow, they do stop sleeping with each other, giving Lando no reason to start dating another guy in his insecurity. And yet, in his off days, Carlos would still come over, from Madrid, or Maranello, or wherever, and hang out with him. Like they’re  _ just _ friends. 

They’re never just friends. At least not for Lando. 

“What happened?”

Lando makes a face. How does he even begin to explain it without having to expose the long and intricate history of him and Carlos, he wonders. 

“I have an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ problem.”

❖❖❖

It’s so bizarre, Lando thinks. To sit alone on a couch of a rented house in Abu Dhabi. Waving goodbyes to some of his fellow drivers and Ferrari crews as they’re leaving said house. And watching Carlos seeing them off after his farewell party. Carlos farewell party. Because he decides he has enough of Formula 1. 

It really feels like the end of an era. Of course he had been through other drivers' retirements before. But they’re not Carlos. Who was Lando's first teammate. Who was there when Lando was so green and had all the pressure that mostly he put on himself. Carlos was there and made the year easier for him. He was there, fighting against him, the first time Lando had the chance to seize his first title. He was there when Lando eventually lost it. And he was there to soothe the pain. He just doesn't know Formula 1 without Carlos in it. 

“I still can’t believe you won’t be at the paddock next year.” But then he quickly realizes. “Not even next year. For testing this week.”

“Come on, mate. We’ve talked about this.” Carlos grins. “It’s too late if you’re still trying to make me stay, you know.”

“Obviously.” And Lando stops himself from rolling his eyes, realizing he’s too old for such theatrics. But he does want Carlos to stay. And he did try to convince Carlos to stay. Because he’s not even 40 yet. He still has so much in him. It just feels premature. 

Or maybe Lando just doesn't want to feel like being left behind. 

“I don’t remember if I have told you my reason or not.” Carlos says with a sigh. 

Lando knows that Carlos is not frustrated with his situation of not winning any more championships. They both know even one is a respected achievement. After all, not everyone is a Hamilton or a Vettel. He’s not upset that Ferrari is looking for a fresh new talent either. He’d stay there long enough. Longer than some other drivers. 

“But you know, I didn't have the most stable beginning in F1. I have to always find my own way to climb up the ladder. Or else, I’d ended up like Dany or Pierre.” And Lando knows Carlos would’ve never let himself settle as a driver in a B team of Red Bull with no chance of winning the championship. “And now I’ve driven for such a great team. I’ve won with them. So now, I don't know what else I want here.”

There are teams, smaller teams, that have offered Carlos to join them. Enticing him with the first driver treatment. Flattering him as the experienced driver that could lead their teams to victory. But none of it could help Carlos from not feeling he’s stuck. Just going round and round in circles when he knows there’s more to life out there. 

“So now you want your dad’s title too,” Lando teases him. Fully aware that Carlos has been working to get his international rally license and a contract with a car manufacturer to jump-start his rally career. 

Carlos smiles, flattered, but trying not to show it. “We’ll see. I don't even know if I’d be even half as good as he did. But,” he shrugs, “you know, I’ve been wanting to do it. Figured this would be as good a time as any. Mid-30’s and trying new things in life.” He raises his impressive eyebrow. “Maybe even get a new boyfriend too.”

Lando is not that stupid to not know what Carlos means. After all, he’s the only one still sitting there after the party ends, when everyone else has left. After all, he’s the one who’d been there along the way. And as of the last few years, he’d been the only one. Lando is certainly not new, but he’s never been Carlos’ boyfriend either. 

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why now, Carlos?” His question comes out sharper, since Carlos seems to decide he’s going to be thick. “Nothing has changed. You’re going to go off doing your own thing. And I am too. And now is going to be even worse, since we’re not gonna be in the same paddock. Not even gonna be in the same country most of the time.”

“But it’s been years. And we’re older now, Lando.” And Carlos still looks at him with the same steady eyes he had when he had to deal with a self-deprecating, 20-something years old Lando. “I’m sure we can deal with the physical distance between us.”

“We don’t know that.”

Now Lando is the one who feels like he has to put a physical distance between them and tries to scoot away even when he’s already at the end of the couch. Because now it feels like if he lets Carlos in his personal space, if he lets him touch him, Lando would end up agreeing to all the things Carlos says. 

“Because we haven't even tried that, Lando.”

_ “I don't—” _ Lando cuts himself. His voice rises, and breaks, and he’s freaking out. Because why, even after all these years, Carlos still doesn't get it. “I don’t want to try. I want us to work. I want to give us the best possible chance. I don't want us to fail, and I’d have something I regret doing, or not do.”

“We’re not gonna fail.”

Lando stares at Carlos. And just baffled by his conviction. He doesn't understand how Carlos could believe so much in them. When they have been doing nothing but putting this aside. Whatever  _ this _ is. They can’t even name it. They can’t even have this conversation until now, because it’s been pushed aside by racing, and championship, by casual, meaningless relationships, and by just sex, and by being simply friends. They’ve never been a ‘we’ _. _

“Why are you so sure?” Lando asks, still perplexed.

“Why are you so afraid?”

“Because, Carlos,” And Lando feels like exploding here. “I’ve liked you since I was 13. I liked you when we first met and you had a girlfriend, and you think I was just a kid, too young to drive a Formula 1 car. And I still like you when you think we’re just friends who fuck sometimes. I even liked you when I tried to fool myself that I’m not and got myself some boyfriends. So I’m sorry if I can’t just, simply, start a relationship with you.”

Carlos' response is just to sit there and stare back at him. Leaving Lando to wonder if it finally dawns on him the magnitude of whatever it is that Lando has been harboring for him. And it scares him. Because what if Carlos would never understand. Or worse, what if he understands, but it could never be as intense or as visceral for him as it is for Lando. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Perhaps it’s Carlos’ lack of response that does it. The way he stares at Lando assuredly. And how he just listens and absorbs Lando’s exploding tension that ultimately leaves Lando with no more fight. 

“Yeah, I’m okay if you want us to stay the same. We don't have to be boyfriends. We don't have to be anything. But,” And Lando doesn't realize how fidgety his fingers are or how close Carlos already is, until Carlos’ knuckle strokes the back of his hand fleetingly. As if he knows, more than that would make Lando feel like a caged animal. “I just want you to know that I always think of you. And I always want you. And I miss you. When we’re apart. Or even when I’m with you.” 

And Lando can’t even hide the shiver that runs along his skin. The butterfly in his stomach. The way his heart hammering against his ribcage. Just because that’s the first time Carlos ever tells him all of  _ that. _ The first time Lando has ever heard that Carlos wants him, just as much as Lando wants him. And it’s overwhelming. It makes him feel like he could burst. 

But it also makes him feel like he can let Carlos hold his hand. And so he lets him, slipping his fingers between Lando’s and wrapping him in his warm, steady palm. 

“But it’s okay. If it scares you. If you can’t do it now. Then it’s okay. It’s enough for me to stay like this with you.” Carlos cups his cheek with his other hand. His thumb caressing’s Lando’s cheekbone, leaving Lando with no option but to stare back at him. And they’re so close that Lando couldn't miss the freckles across Carlos’ nose or the golden specks in his irises. “Because I know, in the end, it’s still you.” And Lando couldn't miss the way he swiftly glances at Lando’s lips. “It’s still you who’s gonna be with me.” But instead, Carlos presses his lips on Lando’s temple, and stays there for a moment, before letting go and leaving Lando to his own thoughts.

And maybe that’s what Lando needs right now. Because for once, it feels like things are not as scary anymore. And that, perhaps, they could actually work.

xxx

Perhaps there really _ is _ something that should be admitted here, Lando thinks, as he's standing at the seasoning alley of Marks &Spencer, with one ear on the phone.

He just went out for lunch with George and Alex, because this year is Alex’s last as a driver and they decided that the 2019 Rookies should meet up for their own little farewell. (And the fact that almost everyone he knows is not in F1 anymore is another thing that Lando shelves in his mental compartment for another day). It was just the three of them, but George, ever their organizer, reserved 4 seats, citing that the other one is for Carlos. Even though he clearly knows Carlos doesn't even live in the UK. Or a 2019 rookie. 

“Mate, don't give me that,” George argues. “He may not live here, but I dare you to tell me he’s not coming to see you. I know he doesn't have a race this week.” 

“He’s your default plus one, Lando,” Alex chimes in. “Everyone knows that.” 

And the thing is, Lando can’t even argue with that because…

“I can’t find El Paso here,” Lando says into the receiver the second he hears his call is picked up on the other end, referring to Carlos' favorite fajita mix.

“Are you at M&S?” Carlos’ voice sounds annoyed. “I’ve told you not to go there. They only carry their own brand.”

Lando groans. Carlos and his food are going to be the death of him. 

“All the things I need are from M&S,” he tries to protest. 

“Lando, all the things you need can also be found in Tesco. Please, it’s not like you cook and need any specific item from there.”

Well it’s not wrong. Lando only stocks up on some “real food” when Carlos comes over. Otherwise he’d just eat whatever pre-packaged meal Jon and his team prepared for him. But still, he’s not just going to let Carlos win this one.

“I need my M&S biscuits!” he says petulantly. Suddenly it feels like he’s 19 again, bantering with his teammate. “What time are you gonna be here, anyway?”

Yes, Carlos is coming later on that day. So yes, George was right. If it was a dinner, they’d definitely use that fourth seat. 

“I will land at five. So I’d be home around 7, I think.” And Lando can indeed hear the busy background on the other end, in Madrid. But he’d be home —well, Lando’s home. But, yes, home— tonight. “I just had my lunch.”

“Yeah, I had mine with George and Alex.”

“Ah. That’s today? Where did you guys go in the end?”

“There’s this sushi restaurant George wanted to try.”

And yes, Lando did have some sushi. Because he’s not 19 anymore and fish are tolerable now. Cooked ones at least. Raw fish will always be an abominable and Carlos should just stop trying to make Lando eat one. They’ve struck a compromise and it should be respected. 

“Hey. While you’re in the city, any chance to pick up some Patty & Bun for me?”

“I’m on the way home already,” Lando tells him, half-listening to Carlos’ whine on how he craves for their burger right now and how they should branch out of London, as Lando leaves M&S and walks to Tesco next door. Marching straight to their seasoning alley. 

So yes, perhaps there really is something that should be admitted here about his relationship— or lack thereof— with Carlos. Especially when Lando already has some P&B burgers waiting in his car. 

❖❖❖

He didn't really think when he decided to book a flight to Majorca. He’s supposed to spend the summer break with his family and few old friends. But the email he received and the offer that came along with it unsettles him. And he can't think of anyone else he could talk about it with other than Carlos. 

Ana looks surprised when she opens the door of her family holiday house and finds it’s Lando who’s standing on the other side. And Lando can’t blame her. 

“Lando!” She pulls him into a hug, “Carlos said you’re not coming.”

“Yeah I did tell him that because I wasn't going to.” Lando makes a face. “Sorry for coming unannounced.” 

“Oh don’t be. You know you’re always welcomed.” She has her arm around Lando’s shoulder and takes him inside with her. “Everyone’s at the back, just finishing lunch. And fair warning, my mom is in one of her moods.”

“What mood?”

“You know, the usual. Pestering Carlos to get married.” Lando groans. “It’s just that he’s not young anymore you know. And now even I am married. So don’t take it personally.” Still, Lando gives her a look, because they both know the reason why Carlos is still single until now. “Well okay. Perhaps you can take it a bit personally.”

“I’m already having one adult life crisis right now.” 

“Yes, but you’ve been dealing with the one with my mom for years now. So you should’ve gotten used to it.”

In hindsight, Lando should've known the whole Sainz clan would be there for summer. And he is already familiar with them since he started to join them during his breaks for a few years now, but still, he needs to brace his introvert self to receive all the cheek kisses and the hugs. Especially when Caco’s mom tells him that they just talked about him.

“Auntie Carmen,” Carlos warns her from the other end of the table. 

“Oh relax. It’s nothing he’s never heard before.” And Lando just smiles awkwardly in her arms. “You know what we usually talk about, don't you, Lando?”

“Yeah,” he replies while sending an urgent signal to Carlos to quickly come and save him. 

“Come on.” Carlos gets up from his seat, and in just a few long steps he reaches Lando and steers him away from his aunt. “I’m going to take the boat out anyway.”

There’s a chorus of protest, claiming that Lando just got there and he should at least be offered lunch. But Lando knows that Carlos knows him well enough that if he came unexpected like this then something must have happened. And the last thing Lando needs is to be surrounded by people. 

“Okay?” Carlos checks up on him once they’re alone. 

Lando just nods and is grateful for the strong hand Carlos keeps on his back. 

They prepare the boat in silence, except for when Carlos gives instructions to Lando. And it’s not until they’re out on the sea and Carlos turns off the engine of the boat does he turns to Lando who is lounging at the deck, while vainly trying to shield himself from the sun. 

“So, what’s up?” Carlos asks as he throws Lando a spare pair of sunglasses he keeps on the boat. 

And Lando would have put it on right away if only Carlos is not standing there, bare chested and all tan from all the sun he’s been enjoying during the break.

“Right now?” Lando asks him back. “Just trying not to drool.” 

Carlos grins. “Flattered. But that’s not what I’m asking.”

Lando sighs. Going out on the sea like this, where there’s just the two of them and nothing else but the wind and the sun, almost makes Lando forget all of his concerns. But it’s not something he should just not think about and wish it away. He actually needs to talk to someone. To Carlos. 

“I just got an offer from Sky. For next year.”

“What? To be a presenter?” Lando nods. “But you’re not even retiring.”

“I’m not?”

“Lando… I—” Carlos seems lost as he sits down to be closer to Lando. “What? Of course you’re not.”

“I haven’t had any discussion about a contract with the team for next year.” 

“Come on, there’s still a few months left before the season ends.”

“Yeah, but it shows that they’re not that interested in me anymore. You know how fast my teammate is. And he’s a rookie, Carlos.”

“Exactly. The team needs you to be the leader. And besides, you outqualified me in your first year. It didn't make me suddenly useless.”

“But I didn't outscore you.”

“He outscores you by one point, Lando. And you’re only halfway through the season.” Lando watches Carlos watching him. He must be surprised that they’re even having this talk when Lando seems to be just fine all along. Lando could be very deceiving when he wants to. “You never told me it’s something you’re worried about.”

Carlos has his hand rubbing circles on Lando’s knee. And for a moment it’s nice to just focus on that. 

“I try not to. But…” He shrugs. “Most of the drivers are younger than me now. And I’m not as fast as I used to be. And then  _ this.” _

“The offer from Sky?”

“Yes. I have never said anything about retiring. But it just feels like the consensus in the paddock is that I'm going to. Or need to.” And it’s frustrating. Being made to feel old. 

“But you don't know what you want either?” Lando doesn't even have to answer that. Carlos seems to be able to read his mind just fine. “You can always be a professional streamer. Finally.” 

The joke brings a smile to his face. “I already am.”

And he really could see himself doing that as his actual job. But right now, he’s still an F1 driver. That’s what he’s been doing his whole life. Fighting his way up from junior categories, get into F1. And ideally, of course, reaching that one goal that most drivers could only dream of, winning the championship. 

But it’s not that easy, of course. He’d seen it first hand, the toll it took on Carlos. Driving for such a highly competitive team, fighting against his own teammate. With the whole world’s scrutiny on you. And Lando’s own experience is not that much different from him. But he thought he’s been navigating all of the other aspects outside of racing pretty well. Despite the criticism that follows him his whole career, the media judging him not serious enough with his job, he’d proven them wrong time and time again. He’d come so close to win the title more than once already. But it’s just never been his year. And now, it feels like his expiration date is coming closer.

He sits up. So he can look Carlos in his eyes. So he can see how much he means. 

“I don't want to be mediocre.” He tells Carlos. “I don't want to retire and just be yet another driver that spent his whole career and ended up being just a runner up.”

“Then fight for it. That’s what we all dreamed of going into F1, to be a world champion. And if you’re still hungry for it then don't stop until you get it. You have the experience. You have the best car on the grid. Nothing should stop you.”

That’s such a Carlos thing to say. Always so persistent, never settles for anything less. So sure with what he does. And so different from Lando who always has a niggling doubt stays permanently on the back of his head. 

“I may have the best car on the grid. But I’m not that fast anymore.” 

“Bullshit. You’re still good. You always are. You’re always faster than me, Lando.”

And Lando can’t help but to raise his eyebrow. “That’s new. You never said that before.”

“Well I don't race against you anymore.” Carlos shrugs nonchalantly.

“If I knew retirement makes you generous with praises, I would've tried to fish it out since years ago.”

“Oh come on. I always praise you.”

Lando smiles at that. Because it’s true. Because that’s what makes Carlos such a haven for him. Because Carlos never lets him put himself down. Always ready with a compliment when Lando can’t even see anything good from himself. Even now, 30-something years old, and still a bundle of insecurity that he needs to fly all the way to Majorca just so he can hear what Carlos has to say. 

“But.” And Carlos scoots even closer to Lando. Hand on his thigh in soothing circles. Always needing to touch, always needing to be only an inch apart. “That’s what Carlos the racing driver would say to push you to your limit.” 

“Carlos the racing driver?” Lando can’t even stop the giggle. “And what else are you other than a racing driver?”

“Well the Carlos who is your…” His hand stops for a split second there. Thinking. “Who’s been with you since you were this tiny.” He makes a miniscule gap between his thumb and forefinger.

“I wasn't that small when I met you,” Lando protests.

And Carlos widens the gap fractionally, so Lando just has to swat his hand away. 

“Anyway,” Carlos says, still grinning from his own antics. “I’ve known you…”

“Better than anyone?”

It would’ve been hard to admit if Lando was younger. That Carlos is indeed the one who can read him so easily like an open book. Who is privy to his most secret thoughts. But, as Carlos said, they’ve been with in each other’s life since forever now that it’s merely stating a fact more than anything.

“Yes. I would say I know you better than a lot of other people in your life. And for me, title or no title, it doesn't matter.” He places his palm on his chest and makes his point. “For this Carlos, you’re the same Lando whether you are a world champion or not. Whether you’re a Formula 1 driver or Sky presenter. Or professional streamer. It really doesn't matter what you do. It wouldn't make you any less that what you are. It doesn't change who you are to me.” 

Lando lets the words sink in. Letting the afternoon sun warm his skin and the salty air lingers between him and Carlos. Ruminating on words that he needs to hear. 

“So, you have a lot to think about. But, just remember, that you’re always gonna be the same Lando for me.”

**xxx**

Carlos receives the message a few hours after Lando left, assuming it’s exactly when he lands at Heathrow. And it’s just a short message. 

_ I’m gonna go full on Rosberg. _

Carlos has to steel himself, knowing full well what it means. Giving 110% of whatever they have, not leaving anything to chance, and just live and breath to win the championship. Exactly like Nico did back in 2016. And he knows what his role is here. What Lando expects him to be.

And it’s not that he can’t do that. It’s just that he knows how hard it’s going to be for Lando. How it’s going to take everything of him and Lando is going to need all the support he could get. And Carlos is going to give all that for him.

_ Okay. We’ll go full on Rosberg. _

❖❖❖

  
  


Lando steps down from the podium with mixed feelings. He’s second and it should be good enough. But the second guy in the championship is getting closer, and Lando can’t have that. He needs to be better. He needs to keep the gap between them or else his fight is going to be harder. He knows where his car strength’s at. And it’s not on these next few tracks.

He’s still ruminating with his thoughts when Mark, his manager, along with Jon, and Zak crowds him on his way to the press conference. Which is unusual. 

“Where’s Charlotte?” he asks for the one woman who should’ve been here, as his PR officer, accompanying him for the press conference. 

“She’s talking with the FIA.” Zak explains. “We’re considering pulling you out of the press conference.”

Lando frowns at the answer. And he stares at the three men surrounding him. Something is not right. 

“What happened?” And then instantly his thoughts just start to turn for the worst. “Is it my parents? Jon, is it Oli?”

“No, Lando.” Jon puts his arm around Lando’s shoulder to keep him steady. “Your family is fine.”

“Then, what— Fuck. Carlos.”

Lando knows that they know that there’s no one else other than his immediate family that held such importance for him, that would warrant taking him out of a mandatory press conference. Except for Carlos. 

Somehow they manage to find him a seat and sit him down. But Lando’s heart is still racing. He feels like throwing up. Carlos also has a race that day. They texted each other before the start. “Did he crash? How bad?” Lando half wishing he doesn't need to hear the answer.

“He's fine, Lando.” Lando lets out the breath he doesn't even know he’s been holding. “He got a mild concussion. But he’s conscious.”

“We think it’d be best if you don't have to deal with the media right now,” Mark explains, “But it’s your choice.”

Lando shakes his head. “Please. I can’t deal with that right now. I need to see him.”

“We can have a jet prepared for you,” Zak offers.

“But,” Jon cuts him, “Rupert told me that Carlos insists you don't need to fly there. He knows you have another race next week.”

“Jon!” Lando tries to protest. How could he be expected not to go and see Carlos. 

“They told me to FaceTime them and let you talk to Carlos after you finished your race.” And Jon already has his phone ready to call Rupert.

But before he could even do that, Charlotte interrupts them with an apology. 

“Lando, they said they can’t let you pull out of the press conference.” She says with an apologetic grimace. “The FIA said because he’s not an immediate family member, and seeing his condition is not critical, they don't see any reason why you can't be there.” Lando screams a string of curses, and Jon holds him tighter. “They promise they’ll make sure to keep the question strictly related to the race. Nothing personal. But yeah. I’m sorry I can’t let you off.” 

Lando knows he can’t be mad at her. Or anyone really. Because they’re right. For all the world to see, they’re just friends. Nothing more. Much closer than any other drivers’ relationships, sure. But he’s not a family, not even a boyfriend. They’re just a speculation. Never confirmed. A bromance at best. 

Lando tries not to laugh bitterly.  _ Bromance. _ Do they really think he’s still an awkward teen who masks his affection by teasing his older teammate?  _ Bromance. _ They’re more than that. Carlos is more than that. Always. 

Everyone could tell he is not himself as he sits there, answering their question with monosyllabic answers. Lando knows that. But really, as he stares into the blinding lights behind the cameras, he just keeps debating himself if he should just tell them that he doesn't want to be there and really wish he could just transport himself to where Carlos is. Let them know how painful it is knowing Carlos is hurt somewhere, miles away from he is. Just exposed every single thing that has transpired between the two of them. Every single muddled thing that they’ve never even said between them. 

When Lando walks back to the privacy of his driver’s room, he’s guarded by his team members who protect him from the chaos of F1 paddock. And as he finally sags against the uncomfortable couch there, he already heard a dialing tone from someone’s phone connecting him to Carlos. 

At first, it's Rupert's face on the screen when the call is picked up. But the trainer transfers the phone just as he sees Lando's face on the other end. And then, there's Carlos. 

He's smiling. He looks fine. There seems to be a cut under his eyes. But otherwise, he's fine. And yet still Lando can't say anything. 

"I'm okay." Carlos tries to reassure him. "Please don't look like that."

Lando doesn't exactly know how he looks to Carlos as what he feels inside is a jumbled mess of emotions. "Don't look like what?"

"Like you're about to collapse at any time." Then Carlos tries to joke. "I'm the one at the hospital here."

"Not funny."

Carlos sighed. And finally schools his face to look more serious. “Lando, I’m fine. I promise. They’re keeping me for observation. But other than that, just a scratch.” He points at the small wound under his eye that Lando had noticed earlier, “And a bit of a headache. You don’t need to come here. Just focus on your next race.”

Lando is honestly speechless. His brain knows that Carlos is right. He has responsibility. Not only to the team, but also to himself. Yet, he’s still reeled by the whole situation. Relieved to see Carlos is mostly unhurt. His heart is so full just from seeing him. And wanting to be with him.  _ Desperately _ wanting to be with him. It almost feels like he himself is in pain from being apart from Carlos when he’s bedridden in a hospital somewhere, halfway across the world. 

He realizes then, as Carlos is still trying to convince him not to come, how stupid he’s been, all these years, for fabricating this contrived excuse to not be Carlos. When he could’ve been. When they should’ve been. And now, he could’ve actually lost Carlos. 

And he’s never even bare himself and shows him all his weaknesses. He hasn't even let himself to say how much he loves Carlos. 

“Carlos, I…” Lando starts. 

And immediately can’t finish that sentence. 

He cannot just say all that over a stupid, grainy video call when Carlos is miles away. 

“Lando,” Carlos is looking at him like he’s saying something obvious. “I know.” Of course. He knows of course. “I do too.”

xxx

Carlos is going to have a fit about this. Lando just knows that already, as he steps inside the hospital where Carlos is treated.

Carlos had insisted repeatedly on the phone that Lando shouldn't come and wasted his time and energy to travel there when Carlos is perfectly fine. And he maybe is. But it's Lando who isn't. Lando is the one who needs this. The one who needs to touch and see with his own eyes that Carlos actually is fine. 

He is greeted by Carlos' family outside the room. His mother gives Lando a hug and assures Lando that his son is unhurt. But just like Lando who needs to be there, it seems like she's the one who needs to hear it. 

Lando is ushered by Rupert into the room. And he can't tear his eyes away the second he sees Carlos lying there in the hospital bed, under the thin white sheets.

He is fine. Carlos really looks like he's fine. And for the first time after he learned about the accident, Lando feels like he can actually breathe.

"You're here." Carlos looks surprised.

And he really is, Lando knows that. Since he didn't tell anyone on Carlos' team that he's coming. Not until he reached the hospital and had to ask Rupert for the room number.

"I am." He says, trying to appease Carlos with a smile.

"I've told you not to come." But Carlos has his hand reached out, waiting for Lando to take it. And of course, Lando is more than happy to. "Why didn't you stop him?" He directs the question to Rupert.

"I didn't even know he's coming until a few minutes ago," his trainer defends himself.

"Carlos, I didn't even listen to you. Why do you think I'd listen to Rupert?"

Carlos lets out a groan. But he pulls Lando closer to his bed, to him.

"You really don't need to be here."

"You're more stupid than I thought if you think you can stop me from coming."

They hear the door being opened and closed. And Rupert leaves the both of them in the room. Hands still clasped with one another. And Lando sighs, once again taking in Carlos' form under the hospital fluorescent light. 

He is fine.

"You're fine."

"I am." Carlos kisses the back of his hand. "And since you're already here, can you get up in here and lie with me?"

Lando thinks they won't fit there. But he'd be lying if he said he could deny that same need to touch. To have Carlos in his arms.

Lando toes off his shoes and climbs into the bed. He lies sideways on where Carlos makes a space for him, with his arm under Lando so he can wrap it around and pull him closer. And Lando just has to have both of his arms around Carlos, one leg on top of him and just hold him. He buries his face on the crook of Carlos’ neck, breathing his scent, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. And just grateful that he still could have this at all. 

“I watched the clip.” Of the accident. But Lando can’t even say it. “Made me feel sick.”

“Muppet.” But Carlos lands a kiss on the crown of his head. “You know it always looks worse than what actually happens.”

“Well it really shouldn't have happened at all. And you got a concussion. You still have to be hospitalized. So it’s not like it’s nothing.” 

“Come on now.” He shakes Lando’s body. “Look at me.” And it’s not until their eyes meet that Carlos repeats the words once again. “I’m fine.”

They're so close that Lando could see all of his freckles, the grey in his stubbles, his wrinkles, the ones that Lando knows weren't there even ten years ago. How solid Carlos feels, how much broader his chest is now that he doesn't have to watch his weight anymore. All signs of the passing of the time. 

They're not in their 20s anymore. And they've been doing this dance, this push and pull since then. He's been too good at it. They have been too good at it. 

And yet, some things never change. Like how callous Carlos' hands are as they caress his cheeks.

"What?" Carlos raises his eyebrows.

Or how he knows whenever Lando is diving too deep into his own thoughts.

"Let's get married," Lando blurts out before he can stop himself.

"What?" And this time it's asked with a baffled chuckle. 

"I don't want to spend any more time on this… Limbo. Like, I don't know what we are. What to call you. Even though I always know what you mean to me."

"Lando–"

"Do you know that I had to do the post-race press conference even after your accident because they said you're not my family member or my significant other. Because for all they know you are nothing to me." Lando isn't sure where all these words come from. Or maybe it's been building up inside him all this time and just waiting to be let out. But either way, he can't stop now. He’s a broken dam with a flood of emotion.

"And I wanted to tell them that they're all wrong. That you are everything to me. But I haven't even told you that. All I've ever told you is how afraid I am to be with you. I've never even told you that I love you. And that I want to spend the rest of my days with you—"

Carlos' lips are chapped. As they always are. But the kiss is something different. There's a relief there. For Lando to actually say what he just said. And perhaps, for Carlos to finally hear it. How long have they been denying themselves of this? 

"It's okay." Carlos murmurs in between their kisses. "I always know. You don't have to say anything." But he presses himself tighter, nuzzling and kissing every inch of skin he can reach. 

"I want us to be something."

"We are something, Lando. We always do." Carlos must have noticed that Lando is ready with another argument and cut him before Lando could even say anything. “Look. We’ve decided we’ll go full on Rosberg this year. Spare no effort, no regrets. No distraction.”

“You’re not a distraction, Carlos. You’re like a part of me.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.” Carlos holds Lando tighter. “If I’m a part of you, then you know, I’m still going to be here, at the end of the season. When you win your title.” 

Lando’s frown deepens. This is not what he expected coming here. He wishes for something tangible. Maybe not a ring, but at least an announcement or something. 

“Look, next week is Russia, right?” Carlso asks, as if they don’t know each other’s race schedule inside out. “So only two months left. That’s it. You’ve been doing this for years now, Lando. You’ve made so many sacrifices. You keep telling me you don't want any regrets. So I don't want you to leave anything to chance.”

Lando wants to argue. But Carlos throws him the same excuse he’d been giving himself. Stupid reason he made himself believe was valid. 

“Fuck.” Lando closes his eyes. “Two more months.” And imagine himself not giving fucks to anything else other than improving himself and to his races.

“I’d still be there, Lando.”

“I know.” But it doesn't make it any easier.

“Come on.” Carlos offers him his fist. “Full on Rosberg.”

“Shit.” Lando curses softly. And he bumps the offered fist. “Full on Rosberg.”

**xxx**

_ "So when did you start thinking about it? When did you know?" _

_ "Well, definitely not when I was 12–" _

_ "Carlos, don't give me that. And stop laughing." _

_ "It would've been creepy if I knew I love you since I was 12, right?" _

_ "Yes, because it means I was 7. And I didn't love you either back then. Sorry to pop your inflating ego." _

_ "Inflating? Nah. It's already massive. You love me first." _

_ "No, I didn't." _

_ "Pretty sure you did." _

_ "We don't know that. You haven't answered my question." _

_ "When I won my title. I knew I rely on you so much and couldn't imagine not having you by my side during that time. Or ever." _

_ "... Shit." _

_ "Told you. You love me first." _

_ "It doesn't mean anything." _

_ "Of course it means something." _

_ "Okay fine, what does it mean?" _

_ "It means, I have to tell you something." _

_ "You have to tell me what?" _

_ "Sorry I took too long." _

❖❖❖

Carlos watches him. Jumping out and climbing up his car in parc ferme. He runs to his crew who catches him with their arms wide open. Carlos just knows he must’ve been screaming inside his helmet. 

Lando doesn't win the race. He’s only placed third in the podium. But that’s enough. Because he’s been dominating the whole year. And Carlos knows no one deserves it more than him. 

He watches Lando run into the welcoming arms of his mechanics and engineers and just everyone from the team who are cheering for him. Cheering for their own hard work throughout the year. He runs to his family next. Hugging his mum, his dad, his siblings. Crying for all the sacrifices they’ve made their entire life just to reach this moment. And then there’s Carlos. 

Their eyes meet. And even obscured by his helmet, Carlos can still see how blue and bright Lando’s eyes are. How high his cheeks are lifted as he’s smiling. And he jumps into Carlos’ arms, leaving him no choice other than holding and lifting him up as high as he could.

“You’re a world champion!” Carlos yells, trying to cut through all the cheers around them.

“I am a fucking world champion!”

And almost just like that, the moment ends. He has to pass Lando on to a horde of other people who wants to congratulate and celebrate with him. And Carlos can understand that. It’s not about him. It’s about Lando and all the people that have been working just as hard to support him and make this dream come true. 

Then Lando has obligations to fulfil, press conference to attend, media to talk to. And some of the pundits who can’t get him drags Carlos for an interview instead. Asking for his thoughts regarding Lando’s win  _ (“No one deserves it more than him”),  _ how the year has been for him  _ (“It’s tough. But Lando was committed, and he just pushed through to it”) _ . And as usual, they’re trying to probe and fish out whatever answer they could get regarding his and Lando’s relationship when the questions asked are starting to veer into what Carlos’ role is in Lando’s pursuit for his title  _ (“Not much. I just support him with whatever he needs”) _ , how much of Carlos’ crash affected Lando  _ (“I guess everyone already knew he visited me for a few days. But I’m fine. So he had nothing to worry about”) _ . 

And a modified question from the one they used to get years ago, when everything was just at the beginning, when they were just two stupid kids. They used to hear, “What does it mean to have Lando as your teammate?” or “Please talk about this bromance,” or “Are you friends, colleagues, or something else?” And now it changes into, “We saw you at his garage all weekend. With his family. Can you tell us what are you here as?” 

They’re trying to catch him off guard. They always do. But what they don't know is that, it’s not that Carlos doesn't want to answer it. But he actually doesn't have an answer to that. So he just smiles at them and tells them, “Well, he’s invited me,” he shrugs, “Obviously that makes me his guest, no?”

It’s not until Lando is back to his garage that Carlos finally gets to see him again. Cheeks flushed, eyes sparkled. Just the most beautiful thing Carlos has ever seen. The crew start to jump around and call him Super Lando. And Carlos joins them with arms on his shoulders and warm liquid from different alcohols soaking his shirt. Pictures are taken, with flashes blinding them every split seconds. And suddenly Lando is in his arms again. 

Between them, they never say thank you. Because whatever they do for each other is a given. It’s not a sacrifice, it’s not a help, when seeing the other’s success and happiness mean just as much for them. But Lando did tell one of the reporters that Carlos has been his rock through his whole career. And it’s more than enough for him to hear. It’s more than whatever Lando has ever said to anyone else regarding their relationship. 

And in that moment, when they’re holding each other so close Carlos can see the speck of green and golden in Lando’s irises, when Carlos think there’s no way now to deflect all those nosy questions when they’re standing within an inch of each other, it’s when the words just slip from their lips, and into each other’s ears. 

“Can we get–”

“Do you want to–”

They laugh. At the same time they know both the question and the answer. 

It’s unclear who initiates the kiss. But most likely it’s them both rushing in to close the gap. Lando still tastes like sweat and champagne Carlos knows he didn't even drink. His curls are damp. The nails scratching Carlos’ neck are blunt. And the cheers around them are deafening. The cameras are shuttering even faster. 

And if anyone asks, Carlos will say, yes, they’re together. 

❖❖❖

“Hey, Land.” 

Lando looks up to find his brother standing with his hands on his hips, taking a break from helping Lando move. Or so he tells himself, and anyone who asks. When actually he just wants to spend summer in Madrid, which is miles better than the gloomy London. 

Oli is watching Carlos putting up a framed picture over his and Lando’s bed. And he just has to say it. 

“You’re such a successful fan, aren't you.”

It takes Lando a while to understand what he means. But then he notices what his brother is looking at. The picture is of him and Carlos, on the dance floor, refusing to do the traditional first dance in their wedding because the both of them have two left feet. But they’re laughing in it, holding each other’s hands, with their friends and family surrounding them, goading them to just dance anyway. It was a beautiful day.

“I mean, this is quite a turnaround from ripping his poster in your bedroom. Now  _ he _ actually puts up a picture of you and him, huh.”

Lando would like to believe that they’ve become too old and grown out of teasing, and in Lando’s case, flipping fingers at each other. But he’s been very wrong as it turns out.

“Just fuck off and try to actually be helpful, Oli.”

His brother laughs and leaves the room. And Lando hopes he’s actually out doing something useful. 

“He’s never gonna let me live it down, isn't he?” he wonders aloud to Carlos who is stepping off their bed and walks up to him, grinning. 

He offers his hand to Lando, and helps him get up from the floor he’s been sitting at. Then he asks, “He?” And he pulls Lando closer by his waist once he’s standing up. His right hand wraps around Lando’s left, and their rings meet. “What makes you think I will stop talking about it too?”

Lando groans and lets his forehead fall against Carlos’ chest. “Let me live,” he whines.

“Never. You have loved me since you’re 13. I need to keep telling people about it.”

Carlos swings their bodies side to side following the slow rhythm of some old 70’s song he put on. They’re not dancing. But it’s close. 

Lando pulls himself closer that he basically just breathes in Carlos’ aftershave mixed with the fabric softener they use. He smells like every morning that Lando’s going to spend for the rest of his life. 

And it really took them a while. But they’re home now. 

❖❖❖

**Author's Note:**

> I started the fic with the idea that they're like 'like two ships that passed in the night' because they're never actually together despite being so close to each other for years. and i used that for working title for MONTHS. but then ofc Lando had to say that their relationship is a story that's going to be told for many, many years. like he really said that in a press conference. so what can i do but to use it. and that's how we ended up with such long pretentious title. please bear with me.


End file.
